


Why?

by DemonRider404



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Depressing, Gen, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-08-20 07:25:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8241247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonRider404/pseuds/DemonRider404
Summary: "All these years, and it still hasn't gotten better...why didn't you say something?"





	

**Author's Note:**

> So in case you didn't see the trigger warning in the tags, this is your final one. Story is mega depressing. Fellow knowing masochists, enjoy.

A lone man knelt on the ground. It was cold and cloudy outside today, the breeze tearing the dried-up leaves off the trees. The dirt was like ice beneath his knees, and despite wearing his warmest jacket, he still shivered. _Fitting,_ he thought bitterly. He scowled, but only to try to cover up the agony and despair he felt every time he came back here.

_All these years, and it still hasn’t gotten better._ He felt a tightening in his chest, like his very heart was crying out in pain.

He hung his head and sighed, his breath shaking as he held back freezing tears. With a rustle of fabric, he sat cross-legged, arms wrapped around himself, facing the all-too-familiar headstone.

“Well,” he started, his voice sounding much louder to him than the gentle mutter it was, “I’m back…sorry I’m later than usual, but…you know me.” He chuckled once. It was a sardonic sound whose tone challenged the ambient temperature. Fingers slid weakly through wild hair. The man swallowed and continued his one-sided conversation.

“Anyway…I just…” he shook his head. “Well, honestly, you aren’t missing much. I don’t know about the others, but at least for me, nothing’s really changed. It might be a little pathetic, but I still haven’t met anyone else. I just…can’t see myself with anyone but you. You were…”

He choked and released another shaky breath, his eyes heating up and his vision wavering as tears flooded them. He pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them, trying desperately to keep warm, and not cry in front of her.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed. His throat was swelling up. He cursed himself. How many years had it been, and he still hadn’t healed at all? There was still a gaping, bleeding void somewhere inside him; for the past few years, it had been like all of his vital organs had suddenly been removed and his heart and soul were just echoing into a dark chasm. The whole world had become completely devoid of light and color when she had gone, and it hadn’t returned.

He scoffed as the tears finally spilled over his eyelids. “I’m really sorry,” he whimpered. He tried to wipe the tears away, but couldn’t keep up with how fast they fell. “What can I say, though? I…I really miss you.”

He swore he wouldn’t cry this time…but at this point, he knew there was no way to stop it. He broke down, sobbing freely into his knees in front of her grave.

Every time he came back, it all played back in his head.

He didn’t want to remember.

But no matter what he did, what he took…there was no home remedy, no medicine or illicit drug that could make him forget.

He remembered the gut feeling that something was wrong. _I should have listened._

He remembered the scream that had torn from his throat, a sound somewhere between horrified and distraught. _I was too late._

He remembered pacing around the hospital waiting room, heart in overdrive, praying to whoever the hell might be listening. _Far too late…_

He remembered becoming stupidly optimistic when the doctors came through the door, and the harrowing, almost audible shattering he felt in his chest when he saw the looks on their faces. _“We did everything we could…”_

_Why?_

Eyes puffed up and painful, the man picked up his head and looked at the headstone again. “You know…I’ve always wondered that. Why?

“Why didn’t you say something? Why didn’t you come to me? Tell me something was wrong? I could have helped.” The sobs were making it hard for him to speak, but he managed anyway.

“Why’d you do it? I wish you could just tell me that.”

He wasn’t sure why he expected an answer, but he still found himself disappointed when none came. He wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand and reached beside him. He picked up a small bouquet. Three daffodils interspersed with baby’s breath; nothing fancy.

“I know you never cared for the over-the-top stuff, so…I just got these.” Shaking his head, he languished over a thought—it was his fault. He couldn’t save her. He had saved her from monsters, from demons, from creatures out of their worst nightmares.

But he couldn’t save her from her own mind.

He sniffed, again stared at the polished granite as if waiting for a response, then got up. On his knees, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to the stone, wiping the stray tears from it and placing the flowers at the base of the headstone, just underneath her epitaph:

_MAKA ALBARN_  
You taught all who knew you what courage meant.  
May God give us strength in our lives without you.

"I miss you so much," he choked out. And with that, Soul somehow found the strength to stand and walk away.


End file.
